Viktor Cherevin: You Americans like to think of yourselves as direct, but I wonder if perhaps you are just rude.
Jack Ryan: You Russians think of yourselves as poets but perhaps you're just touchy.
[last lines]
President: And what's your name, son?
Jack Ryan: Ryan, Mr. President. Jack Ryan.
Jack Ryan: [collapsing on his crutches] I don't like you very much, doctor.
Cathy Muller: I'm not a doctor. I'm a 3rd-year med student who is four credits short in P.T. until you decide to walk.
Viktor Cherevin: [speaking of Afghanistan] Different time, different empire, same graveyard.
Viktor Cherevin: Partnerships are delicate, Mr. Ryan. Sometimes they end violently.
William Harper: I want to send you back to school to finish your doctorate, then you'll join financial intelligence as an analyst. You'll work in a series of private banks on Wall Street while you'll use your position to uncover funding for terror groups.
Jack Ryan: Covertly.
William Harper: Yep. So, you have to keep it to yourself.
Your employers won't know you work for us; the people you love won't know you do, either. It's gonna get lonely but... it's how we like to do things.